fiction
Horror fiction that delivers on its promise to scare, startle, frighten and unsettle. These stories are fake, but the shivers down your spine won't be.
Sanguine Shadows
The night was still and strange; full of a thousand different sounds that should be but were not. Arvell Missick had left the cozy quiet of the cabin he shared with his wife, Sabine, to step into the unnatural silence of the wooded land around them. Not a sound penetrated the night's stillness, making Arvell’s steady breathing seem as loud as trees felled one after the other.
By Ashlei Johnson5 years ago in Horror
Birdhouse
The wet gravel crackled like embers under the weight of the slowing car. The driver killed the engine, swapping its thunderous noise for the pitter patter of the rain. Like a mason jar, the car door popped open. A bright yellow rain boot dug into the mud followed by a second boot. The driver stood, examining the cobblestone driveway leading into the pavilion. Brown moving boxes littered the walkway and stairs leading to the front door, it had been left open.
By Charlie Greenberg5 years ago in Horror
Just A Walk In The Park
Amelia had studied too long at the library. Again. Checking her watch, she had missed the last bus which meant she would be walking home. Again. Always sitting in the back stacks where it was quietest and not too many souls ventured, she almost always lost track of time until someone was making an announcement informing whatever students remained that the library would be closing in thirty minutes.
By L. M. Williams5 years ago in Horror
An Owl Pact
The time had come. Tytus could feel in the gut. He could feel it in the way the dead leaves rustled in the night, or in the constant clanking of wood in the barn’s shed, or in the nervous bleating of the stupid goats that lived beneath. Tytus took his favorite place at the peak of the cupola and awaited his friend… if you could call him like that.
By Ignacio Casaretto5 years ago in Horror
The Night Owl
Thursday, 12:34am. I have never been one to diary my day, but I am willing to try, if for any reason but to examine my experience objectively. Some two months in midtown and my aspirations have quickly rotted into pleas for relief. I go to work to see my colleagues and envy their zeal and their tenacity, all the while shying from my superiors for all the work I have yet to complete. A three-bus link home each night and I am sitting at my computer, working some more, eating some more and doing all the mundane to sustain an existence.
By Wray_written5 years ago in Horror
The Visiting Hours
Chair legs scraped against concrete throughout the makeshift chapel. There were 14 of these chairs placed around the pool of sun that spilt through the skylight. They carefully framed the edge of the light, denying the bodies in them any warmth it might provide.
By Sarah Kelly5 years ago in Horror
That Thing
It has been many years since the day I came across the small figure within the small shop of San Francisco’s Chinatown. Chinatown is full of shops with numerous items for tourists to collect and to bring home to wherever they may have hailed from. It was in one such shop that I came across that small figurine. A black stone carving of unknown determined origin whose intricate carving work had not fared well with time. Two inches wide and a few inches tall, three or four at most. At first, I thought it was a curious stamp face for the numerous calligraphy items to be purchased as many stalls boasted one or the other of the chirographical itinerary. Each stamp press was to denote an end to the letters as the author's signature. Or to be used to create a wax seal for the reader to easily note who had sent them the parchment. Along the rows of the shop’s offerings were the standard factory-made fans and numerous stainless-steel offerings for those of a martial taste in eccentric wants.
By Paul Brennan5 years ago in Horror
The Birdwatcher
The rustle of leaves and morning air greeted Dan while he slept in the tent. He had planned this for so many weeks. "I'm finally getting to enjoy some well deserved solitude" he thought to himself. The new insulated sleeping bag was cozy and he only wanted to continue feeling its warmth.
By MICHELLE SHAAY 5 years ago in Horror
The Owls' Perch
The Owls’ Perch was a high-class bar and lounge. It was situated in the city heights, an affluent district that big businesses and the most popular establishments called home. The Owls’ Perch grandfathered all of these. Having stood through wars, economic depressions, political turmoil, and changing times, it was like a fulcrum that surrounding society pivoted itself with. It was engraved in the city as a symbol of status and prosperity. Reservations were always booked to capacity as people from all over came to reflect the status and glamour that emanate from it.
By Sara Cooney5 years ago in Horror
The trustworthy owl
She found herself sequestered in a barn as if it had always been her home. She was running from her brother, who had once been the most important person in her life. Her brother had since changed, he had become someone she only recognized as his father, a cruel and unintelligent man. She hoped not to see either of them again, hoped to simply move to another town and hide away the rest of her life.
By L.D. Malachite 5 years ago in Horror
The Green-eyed Owl
If you see the green-eyed owl, do not turn back on your path. Do not quicken your step, though your nerves thrum with fear. Do not look behind you for the owl, for you will not hear the great, silent wings. You may catch a glimpse of its feathers in the moonlight, pale as snow, in the corner of your eye. But do not look directly at it. Do not stop. Do not turn back. Do not take a shortcut. Keep your eyes on the ground and walk steady. Those who do otherwise never find their path home.
By Beth Carlberg5 years ago in Horror
